


Love Letters

by rhysgore



Series: FKM Fills [3]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Crack, Dick Pics, M/M, breaking up is hard to dooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6387478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysgore/pseuds/rhysgore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Courier reluctantly helps Joshua deal with some relationship issues. Arcade is scarred for life. Veronica's got a million-dollar television idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

> written for fkm. i genuinely love caesar/joshua, and i wanted to do something serious, but completely failed in that endeavor. next time.

After they had defeated the White Legs and saved Zion, after the celebrations and honorary initiations, after Courier had returned to Dead Horse point to say her goodbyes and was about to leave, a tribal whom she hadn’t met before approached her. The young girl had an envelope, and a message.

“Joshua say take this,” she said, handing it to the woman timidly. “Say ‘give it to seezer’.” 

Courier frowned, but accepted the envelope anyway, carefully. Given Joshua and Caesar’s past disagreements, there was definitely a chance that the envelope was filled with some sort of toxic spore-carrying plant. Or rigged to explode. Or the paper was deliberately cut to give any would-be reader an unpleasant papercut. 

The envelope didn’t appear dangerous, however. The paper was slightly yellowed with age, folded neatly, and written on the back, in black ink, in handwriting more delicate than Courier would have imagined Joshua capable of, were two words. 

“To Caesar.” 

 _What the fuck,_ Courier thought. She didn’t say it though. There was a child present. 

“Thank you,” was what she settled with. The little girl smiled. “I should get going now.” 

“I tell Joshua you leave,” she said. Courier smiled back at her, ruffled her short hair, and then walked out of the camp. 

On his way back, Courier found herself thinking about the mysterious letter more and more. For someone who seemed unwilling to take significant risks while dealing with the Legion, it seemed weird of Joshua to send a personal letter directly to its leader. Laying next to a campfire one night, she idly turned the yellow paper over and over in her hands, wondering what could possibly be that important to the man. Was it a threat? A taunt? A request for a secret, one-on-one duel, winner takes all for control of the Legion and Zion? 

Whatever it was, it was probably best she didn’t read it. Soon enough she’d be an enemy of the Legion, and she’d rather only Caesar be mad at her then invoke the ire of both Caesar and Graham. One army of skilled warriors trying to chop her to death was enough. 

Still, the curiosity was overwhelming, and it was only sheer force of will that prevented her from reading the missive. 

When she got back to Vegas, Veronica and Arcade gave her a back-breaking hug (more Veronica’s fault than Arcade’s, if Courier was to be completely honest), and demanded to know the details of what happened during her eight-week excursion. Courier gave them the short version- she’d helped two groups of tribals defend against and eventually permanently weaken an invading force, and met a legend. 

“And now,” she said through a mouthful of the salisbury steak she’d been chowing down on, “the Burned Man wants me to deliver his mail. I guess I never really retired, huh?” 

“What do you mean ‘deliver his mail’?” Arcade asked, frowning. “Who the hell could the guy possibly be talking to?” Courier gestured wildly with her fork, coughing as she swallowed down her food. 

“That’s the crazy part- you’ll never believe the guy this guy’s writing to. It’s fucking _Caesar.”_ She gesticulated with arms and shoulders alike. “Like, ya know… The guy who set him on fire? You’d _assume_ that a sane person wouldn't wanna talk to someone they shared a history like that with anymore.”  

There was a murmur of laughter as Courier fished around in one of her pockets, and eventually pulled out the envelope that had been the source of so much interest that night. The other two subconsciously crowded closer, eyeing the yellow paper with ravenous curiosity. “And I kinda want to know what it says, but I also don't want Graham to track me down and chop my head off…” 

There was a moment of silence. 

“Aw, what the hell. We can take him, right?” She grinned and picked up a clean knife, gently splitting the wax that held the envelope closed, and extracting the paper inside, unfolding it gently. “… and of course, it's in goddamn Latin. Arcade?” 

“Hand it here,” the doctor said with a sigh, pushing his glasses up as he was handed the letter. “Let's see…” He cleared his throat. “‘Edward. Mormons abhor swearing, but for you, I will make an exception. Fuck you. I hope you're enjoying your male-pattern baldness and tiny penis. Joshua.’” He looked up, disbelief obvious on his face. “Well. That raised more questions than it answered.” 

“Yeah. No shit.” Courier took the letter back, melting the wax back into a seal with a lit match. 

- 

A week later, Courier was at the Fort, holding the letter out to a very bored looking Caesar. Visiting the Fort was never a pleasant experience, and never seemed to get any better regardless of what the Legion thought of her, but a combination of professional pride and curiosity demanded that she make this delivery. 

“I was told to deliver this to you,” she said. “It's from Zion.” Mention of the former park immediately piqued Caesar’s interest, and he sat up on his throne, snatching the paper from her hands. 

“Yes, thank you,” he said absently, fingers skating over the yellow paper. 

“It's from-” 

“I _know_ who it's from,” Caesar snapped, casting a glare in her direction as he snapped the seal and practically tore the envelope open.  

His eyes scanned the writing inside, face going from merely angry, to purple with rage as he read. When he’d finished, Caesar tore the paper, shredding it and spewing what Courier assumed were Latin swearwords. 

“That _son of a bitch,”_ he seethed. “Who the _hell_ does he think he is?” The fist cushioned by a displacer glove smashed the arm of his throne, and Courier heard a cracking noise. “Paper! Someone get me a pen and paper!” 

There was a mad scramble as ten fully-armored legionaries rushed to fetch what their master bid. The requisite items were finally delivered via Lucius, who stepped back in alarm as Caesar snatched them out of his hands and started scribbling furiously. His hand moved at an incredible rate, but when he was finished, he carefully folded it, wrote a name on the back, and held it out for Courier to take. Completely baffled, she did. 

“Thank you. You’re dismissed,” he said, making a shooing motion with his hands. 

“Um. Should I ask what’s going on, or…?” 

 _“Or._ You’re a mailwoman aren’t you? You have a delivery to make.” Caesar’s face was still stony. It was only a matter of time before he decided to take out whatever grievances he had on whomever happened to be standing nearby, and Courier wasn’t particularly interested in having anyone try to turn her head into paste. Sighing, she pocketed the letter and walked out. 

- 

“He wrote a letter _back?!_ And you’re actually going to _deliver it?!”_ Arcade’s outrage was almost comical. “Look, I know you have professional pride, but that doesn’t mean you have to be an errand girl for two… Jesus, I don’t even know how to describe them both.” He rubbed at his brow, glasses tilting askew as he did so. 

“Sociopathic cosplayers?” Veronica helpfully supplied. “Murderous old guys?” 

“Yes. Thank you.” 

 _“Quarreling lovers?”_  

“Well-” Arcade started, but was interrupted. 

“I’ve been thinking about this. We all know Caesar essentially bad at all things involving being a person. What if setting a guy on fire and tossing him off the Grand Canyon was his way of breaking up with him? I’m just sayin’, it’s possible.” Veronica shrugged, and sat back. Arcade rolled his eyes and muttered something disparaging under his breath, which he refused to repeat when prompted. 

Courier cleared her throat. “Well, I _have_ the letter he wrote. Although it’s in Latin. Again.” 

“I keep offering to teach you…” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She produced the crumpled paper from her pocket and handed it to the doctor, who smoothed it out before scanning through the letters. As his eyes traveled, his face flushed bright pink, and he rubbed a hand through his hair uncomfortably. 

The other two leaned in close. Arcade coughed. 

“Um,” he muttered. “Well.” 

“Well?!” 

Arcade coughed again, looking around. “‘Joshua- First of all, go fuck yourself. I imagine you’re doing a lot of that now that I’m not around. And I don’t have a small dick, you’re just horrible in bed. It was you who used to-’” His face was burning red. “I’m not going to say this out loud. It’s unnecessarily graphic and crude, let’s leave it at that.” 

Courier made a face. “Ew.” 

“Yeah. I’m going to have the image of Caesar having wild sex with another man stuck in his head forever now. Thank you for that, by the way.” He grimaced and rubbed his forehead again. 

“I’m sorry.” She winced, and rubbed Arcade’s shoulder gently. “No one should have to picture that. It’s… _ew_.” 

“Holy crap. I was totally right.” They turned to Veronica, who had her hands clasped together in front of her face in shock. “Man, that’s a _messed up_ relationship they’ve got there.” 

“Yeah. No shit,” Courier sighed, and folded up the letter again. 

- 

Joshua’s expectant look when Courier made her way back to the Dead Horses camp made her want to punch him in the face, just a little. Grimacing, she reached into her pocket, noting with some bitterness that she had been delegated to the role of post-apocalyptic relationship counsellor. Great. Just great. 

“He wrote back.” She handed the paper to Joshua, who started to read it quickly. Courier watched with vague interest as his eyes scanned rapidly across the first few lines, before slowing down significantly as he got to what she could only assume was the pornographic part of the letter. 

To confirm her suspicions in absolutely the worst possible way, she heard Joshua inhale sharply, and saw him shift in his seat, crossing his legs almost angrily. If he had skin, he’d probably be blushing. 

“Ew,” she murmured, suddenly feeling a lot more empathy for Arcade. Luckily, Joshua was too engrossed in what he was reading to hear her. After a minute more, he put the paper down. 

“Caesar has quite a way with words,” he said, perfectly even tone betrayed by his heavy breathing. “It’s no wonder so many people follow him with such slavish devotion.” Courier pulled a face. Really, _really_ not something she needed to know. “Give me a minute. I have a few choice words of my own for the man.” 

 _Yeah. I bet you do,_ Courier thought with a sigh. 

-

“Arcade?” 

The doctor recoiled in horror as another piece of paper was offered to him. His hands came up in his defense, waving wildly. 

“Oh nononoooo, absolutely _not._ I don't need the graphic details of any more Legion sex romps, okay? I’m willing to do almost anything to bring them down, but the key word is _almost.”_ He took a few steps backwards, right into Veronica, who pushed him forwards again.  

“You’re not curious? At all?” She asked.

“I’ve learned enough to satisfy a thousand lifetimes worth of curiosity about Caesar’s former sex life, thank you _very_ much.” Arcade’s glare darted between Courier and Veronica. “... You’re not going to leave me alone until I read it, are you.”

“Nope,” Courier said, poking his shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, read the whole thing out loud. Let us all appreciate the pain you’re going through.”

“Thanks.” He sighed, and opened the letter. “‘Edward- overcompensating much? Bragging about how good you are in bed isn’t going to get rid of your erectile dysfunction, you know. In a lot of ways, your sexual performance is just like your invasion of the west: premature. Enjoy soliciting sex from slaves. Joshua.’” Arcade winced. “Yikes.”

“Wouldn’t want to spurn _his_ affections,” Veronica said, mock seriously. “And I’d hate to make you risk your life by getting Caesar all pissed again, but this is honestly getting really good. You know those old pre-war soap operas? The Brotherhood has a few holotapes of them in our archives. This could be on one of them.”

Courier sat down, and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, who _wouldn’t_ want to watch drama like this?”

-

When Caesar read the latest letter, he was calm. Eerily calm. Courier had assumed he was suffering from some sort of physical ailment until she saw his hands. One was trembling, gripping the paper, and the other was a white-knuckled fist. There was a slight twitch in one of his eyelids. When he looked up, the trembling had spread to be full-body, insidious and more than a little terrifying.

 _“Leave,”_ he hissed. “I will talk. To you. Tomorrow.” Every word was clipped, as if he was struggling to get them out without screaming. Knowing Caesar, that was probably exactly the case. Courier beat a hasty retreat out of the tent. Looks like she’d be spending the night, which was not something she particularly relished, but it at least gave her time to coordinate breakout plans with some of the Fort slaves.

After speaking furtively and covertly with several of them, she got a fitful night of sleep on the rough bedrolls the Legion provided everyone. Waking up with a crick in her neck the next morning, she wished she had brought one of her friends along, if only to have someone to complain to.

“Figures that goddamn Caesar has his own bed, but everyone else has to sleep on the fucking ground,” she grumbled as she chewed on a breakfast of dried fruit and slightly radioactive energy bars, and made her way back up to the man’s tent. “Lousy bastard would probably break his hip if he slept anywhere but that bed, though. All the more reason for him to get a bedroll like the rest of us, though.” She pushed aside the cloth door, nodding to the guard stationed outside, who pointedly didn’t look at her.

Caesar, for his part, seemed to be in a better mood that morning. A much, much better mood. A suspiciously better mood. A smug smile stretched out across his face as he reclined lazily on his throne, looking entirely the part of the debauched Roman emperors of old. Courier’s eyes narrowed as she took in the sight. 

“You’re up early,” he said. “Quite respectable.” He held out an envelope, slightly bigger than the ones that had been so far exchanged, and slightly heavier too, like there were multiple papers in it. “Here. Deliver this as soon as possible.” He actually _laughed_ at that, even if it was a somewhat malicious snicker. It was unsettling. Courier took the package warily, cocking an eyebrow as she did so. 

“Is there something I should know…?” She asked, before deciding that whatever it was, she could figure it out later. “Nope. Nevermind.” 

“Good. See that you deliver it promptly.” He sat back again, smirk never leaving his face. Courier was finding it harder and harder by the minute not to punch him. 

 _It won’t end well,_ she reminded herself. _Not yet._  

- 

“Do I want to know what’s in here?” Arcade handled the package delicately, as if it might explode. 

“Probably not. But please, tell us anyway.” Courier smiled winningly in the face of Arcade’s withering glare, even as he unfolded the envelope and reached inside. 

“By all means, allow me to scar myself more to satisfy your curiosity. After all, I don’t know how I could possibly- ” He took one look at the items inside the envelope, yelped in horror, and dropped them all over the floor. His face was drained of blood, and he was shaking in what appeared to be pure revulsion. “Courier, I’m a doctor. I know a very respectable trepanation technique that I’d like to take this opportunity to teach you.” 

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on,” she giggled, picking one of the items, which looked to be a photo, up off the floor. “They can’t be that awf-” She stared at the photo, jaw dropping. “Uh. Allow me to be the first one to say that I would have preferred never to see that, if at all possible.” Her tone was overly even, and broke into a squeak at the end as she placed the photo face-down on a nearby table.

“I _told_ you,” Arcade hissed, rubbing his eyes as if it would erase whatever image had been seared into them. “I don’t know _why_ you doubted me.”

“Me neither.”

Courier looked between her two friends apologetically. “Holy shit, I’m sorry. What the hell is on those pic-” She picked one up, took a single look at it, and put it back down. “Honestly? Not quite sure what else there was for me to expect.” Her face went slightly green, and she gulped. “Not quite sure exactly what message he’s trying to convey by sending these, though.”

“Maybe he’s trying to get Joshua jealous?” Arcade was shaking like a leaf. “As in… ‘look at my genitalia. You can’t touch it anymore. Is this upsetting?’”

At the twin looks of horror from Courier and Veronica, he shut up, and joined the other two in silently attempting to scrub his brain of what he’d seen.

“At least it looks like that Fox guy was… enjoying himself,” Veronica spoke up after a minute of failure, still unnaturally pale.

Courier glared severely at her. “Well. _Thank goodness for small favors.”_

-

Handing the package over to Joshua, Courier couldn't help but blush. Even given the subject of the photographs, it still seemed excessively personal. Coupled with the fact that she didn’t know if Joshua actually wanted his ex’s nudes, and the fact that every time she closed her eyes for more than 10 seconds she was reminded of what she saw, it was a recipe for full-body, visceral embarrassment.

Joshua acknowledged her delivery with a nod, and tore into the package without ceremony. Courier hurriedly looked away, and tried to ignore the odd, gaspy sounds the man was making.

“Thank you,” he said at last, voice a bit thicker than it usually was. “If you don't mind, I would… enjoy some privacy.”

Oh.

_Oh._

_Oh, that's just gross,_ Courier thought, wrinkling her nose and exiting the cave as quickly as possible.

One of the Dead Horses was standing outside the mouth of the cave. He opened his mouth to speak, and Courier shook her head rapidly.

“I’d give him 20 minutes or so before you go in there. The normal procedure is to hang up a necktie I think, but his room doesn't have a doorknob, or even a door, so…”

-

“He didn’t write back?”

“Nope. And there’s no way in hell I’m going back there to try and get a response.”

“So… all’s well that ends well?” Veronica was lounging on the couch and fiddling with her power fist, eyebrow raised in disbelief as Courier told what would hopefully be the last episode of the recent relationship drama.

Courier shrugged. “I guess. If you ignore the part that we still have an angry, militant fascist to deal with who is no doubt going to send one of his stupid hit squads after me to ask why stupid Joshua isn’t returning his stupid mail.”

“Probably something it’d be better for you to deal with sooner rather than later,” Arcade noted, crossing his arms. 

“Probably.”

The three of them sat in amicable silence for a few minutes, considering the direction their lives had gone.

“If I need a job after Hoover Dam, it’s gonna be something less dangerous than a mailwoman. Maybe I’ll be a professional minefield disarmer,” Courier suddenly declared, propping her feet up on the ottoman as she did so. “Less chance bodily harm coming to me.”

“Less chance of seeing old guy dick pics, too.” A cry of agony went up throughout the room.

  
“God _damnit,_ Veronica!”

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr @legatelanivs, talk about caejosh w/ me


End file.
